


Just a Game

by arc_kakusei



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arc_kakusei/pseuds/arc_kakusei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monotonous days at university for Kaizuka Inaho are slowly but surely livened up and colored orange and green and all the colors he's never used before, starting with his first meeting with Slaine Troyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grey

Inaho sighed inwardly, though no one would have been able to tell from looking at his face. Almost immediately after entering the room, his eyes spotted his preferred seat in this particular lecture room – more so the person that he’d never seen before who was currently obscuring Inaho’s view of his seat by sitting in it.

Forgoing all courtesy, as his friends would have noted that he was wont to do, he walked up to the stranger, whose gaze was currently flitting about the computer screen, and stated, “You’re in my seat.

The stranger’s head turned to look at Inaho, and the alarmingly bright sea green eyes that met his widened before quickly darting to look past him at the empty space near his hip. _The probability of that eye color occurring as a result of the crossing over of two individuals’ genes, regardless of their genotypes, is extremely low – it’s more probable that a mutation of some sort occurred during –_

“I’m sorry,” the boy apologized, interrupting Inaho’s train of thought. “I was just waiting for the professor to properly add me to the class. I’ll move right away.”

_A transfer, then – he’s either an international student or from another program in the university. There’s no reason to crash the class otherwise._ The boy’s subdued attitude and nervous disposition hinted as much. Inaho held up a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “It’s fine. There isn’t any assigned seating.”

Inaho took a seat in the chair next to the boy while a confused look crinkled the corners of his green eyes. “Alright…? Why is this your seat, then?” He patted the chair for emphasis – emphasis that Inaho found completely unnecessary.

“I’ve used that specific seat for all of my classes in this room prior to this one.”

The simplistic answer caused the boy’s mouth to quirk into a small frown, stretching the pale skin around his mouth. “It’s not a particularly unique seat – I can’t see why you’d want to sit in it every time you come in here.”

Something about the boy’s confrontational attitude – most likely the fact that it was at odds with Inaho’s initial impression of him – made Inaho say, “You must be colorblind then.”

The frown grew before the boy glanced down at the chair he was sitting in – unremarkable, in that it was in the same style of all of the other chairs in the room, with the same scratchy, rough fabric stretched across the thin foam cushion, cheap plastic and hollowed metal tubing making up the functional structure. In other words, it conformed to all of the other chairs in every way.

Except for –

“Orange.” The world came out of the boy’s mouth in a tone that was half wonder, half disbelief, followed by another that leaned towards the latter emotion. “Why?”

“All of the other chairs are blue. This one was likely refurbished after an incident rendered it unusable, but with insufficient funding and motive to replace it completely, the university was more inclined to –”

It was the boy’s turn to ‘stop’ Inaho, his other hand reaching down to brace himself against the frame of the chair. He leaned on that arm heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I hope you know that’s not what I was asking.”

Inaho subtly acquiesced. “Orange is easier to use as a reference when I want to sit in the same spot during each lecture.” He noted how the dark grey cardigan the boy was wearing – loose on his frame, Inaho noted – stood out against the admittedly garish color of the chair. Halloween came to mind.

“That’s all you had to say.” The statement was accompanied by a sigh. “Your name would have been appreciated earlier – perhaps _before_ you tried to verbally dump me out of your seat, Orange.”

“Likewise, Bat.” The spur-of-the-moment nickname came to Inaho – in a flash of genius or in the grip of insanity, he had yet to ascertain.

One of “Bat’s” eyebrows rose to hide in his blond hair. “It’s Slaine Troyard, but please, tell me where you came up with that name. And don’t pull another one of those unrelated answers, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Your sweater reminded me of the wings of a bat.” Deprived of the chance to evade the question, he added, “Kaizuka Inaho.” He didn’t feel the need to clarify the order of his name, assuming that Slaine at least knew how Japanese names were read after transferring to a game design program in a Japanese university.

Slaine sighed. “I suppose the reason could have been worse, though I could have done just as well without the insult to my intelligence earlier.” He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Kaizuka Inaho.”

Inaho took it, noting the cool temperature of Slaine’s skin – _low blood pressure, which also explains why he needs a sweater in spring_ – and shook lightly. “I’ve yet to read a study correlating intelligence with colorblindness, but likewise, Slaine Troyard.”

The hand in his tightened its grip in accordance with what Inaho assumed to be the rising annoyance in Slaine’s expression.

“Just so you know, I’m not colorblind.”

Inaho shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write for Aldnoah.Zero for a couple of weeks now, but I couldn't trust myself to stay in the canon universe and make satisfactory material. This is what I've come up with instead.
> 
> Notes:  
> \- I am in university myself, but I know little of universities specializing in design and the arts.  
> \- This may or may not end up mixing elements of present and "science-fiction" technology.  
> \- I don't have a set upload schedule. I'll most likely write and post when I feel like doing so.  
> \- I apologize if anyone is out of character, but I'll do my best with my own writing style in mind.  
> \- If it's not clear, thoughts are in italics. The characters to whom they belong may vary.
> 
> Please let me know what you think - thank you for reading!


	2. Slate

The patter of spring rain falling from the slate-gray clouds was surprisingly soothing to Inaho’s ears. As he watched the raindrops slide noiselessly down the glass in contrast to the constant noise they made with their initial impacts, he recalled that he wasn’t much for incessant noise. He was used to it thanks to his friends, though, and he minded them about as much as he did the rain – which might not have showed on his face enough to satisfy them all of the time. Despite Inaho’s apparent inability to give anything other than short, straightforward answers or hold an extended conversation, they’d remained good friends throughout high school and college.

Inaho’s mind drifted to their endeavors in college. Calm had enrolled in the mechanical engineering program in the same university as Inaho – not a surprise to any of them, since he’d always enjoyed tinkering with things in his free time – but the college of engineering was on a campus separate from Inaho’s, about fifteen minutes away on foot.

Branching off of her parents’ path with a spring in her step, Inko had delightedly matriculated to her first-choice culinary school with the goal of opening her own restaurant someday. She’d ended up farther away from their hometown of Shinawara - where Inaho and Calm had remained relatively close, her school was about an hour’s flight southwest.

As for Nina, she’d decided to pursue her career in fashion design in France. They’d agreed that it suited her well, but Inko had been especially devastated when Nina had broken the news to them all during lunch one day. Inaho hadn’t known quite what to do when she’d burst into tears, but Calm had taken the initiative then by patting her on the back and giving her the napkin from his lunchbox.

Needless to say, it had been one of Calm’s finer moments with regards to his treatment of women.

Inaho’s eyes smoothly moved his gaze from the window to fall on Slaine, sitting next to him – in his orange chair – and working intently on the programming assignment the professor had given them half an hour ago. The computer science class they were in was part of a series made specifically for the game design and development program in the college of creative studies. Since it had been created recently, the college had few students, making the classes small and sociable.

The shuffling of papers and general noise of people packing their belongings told Inaho that the class was about to end. He’d finished the assignment already, so he made a reminder on his phone to send it to the professor when he made it back to the dorms while he gathered up his bag.

Starting towards the door, Inaho made it barely two steps before he heard a sigh from slightly behind him. He stopped and turned slightly to see Slaine looking past him, out the door and presumably at the rain.

 _He’s dressed even more warmly than usual._ Inaho took note of the scarf he’d never seen the boy wear before. _The cold shouldn’t be the problem with the situation, then. Judging from the shape of his bag, there are only notebooks and writing utensils in it, meaning that he doesn’t have an –_

“Umbrella?” Inaho finished his thought aloud, making Slaine focus on him.

“None, unfortunately.” Slaine toyed with the ends of his hair at the back of his neck absentmindedly. “I knew it was going to rain, but I’d been hoping it would pass by the time class ended.”

“Weather is inherently unpredictable, resulting in reports being based solely on probabilities. It would have been prudent to bring one regardless of whatever you’d read before coming to class.”

Slaine rolled his eyes. “Reprimanding my blind faith in nature’s good side this time?”

“Nature is inanimate. Personifying it and assuming it has “sides” isn’t particularly –”

Inaho was cut off by Slaine’s hand appearing in front of his face. “Let’s stop there, shall we?”

“What do you intend to do, then?”

The blond boy considered it for a moment, crossing his arms and bunching the fabric of his coat at the elbows. “I live off-campus, but since it’s not too far, I walk every day. I can handle walking through it – it’s only about ten minutes away.”

In response, Inaho reached into his bag after setting it down on the table he’d been sitting at and pulled out a small black umbrella, holding it out to Slaine. “The wind isn’t too strong, so this should be adequate.”

Slaine’s eyes widened. “I can’t take that from you – you have to walk back to the dorms, don’t you?” He pushed the umbrella and Inaho’s hand away in protest.

“I live significantly closer to here than you do. I’m less likely to fall ill from walking completely unexposed in the rain to my residence than you are, as a result.”

“Even if that’s true –”

“It is.” _Rain propagates pathogens and chemicals by coalescing water vapor around microscopic particles of –_

“ _Even if that’s true_ , the fact is that you came prepared and I didn’t. You should use it.”

Inaho didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he picked up his bag and set the umbrella down on the table before turning to leave once again. He made it slightly farther this time, almost to the door, before an indignant “Hey!” sounded behind him.

_His initial reaction time to unexpected events is significantly longer than I expected._

Slaine came up next to him, the umbrella in hand. “I was under the impression that people didn’t literally walk away from conversations. What was that, anyway? An ultimatum?”

“The dramatized connotation of that word is not what I intended.”

The other boy snorted lightly. “Right.”

“If you are that intent on having me use it, I will. However, that will most likely entail my walking you home.”

“Wait, why?” Slaine spluttered. “That’s completely unnecessary!”

“I would use the umbrella to ensure that you get back to your room with the lowest probability of falling ill and return to my dorm with the assurance that you won’t get sick, come to class, and spread your illness to me. Therefore, it seems wholly necessary, with the intent of maintaining my own health, that I walk you back.”

“I’m amazed by how much and how little sense that makes. You’re telling me that walking another half hour in the rain – even with an umbrella – is going to keep you from getting sick.” Slaine shook his head in disbelief.

Inaho hummed noncommittally and inclined his head towards the door. “At this point, I wouldn’t be walking in the rain.”

Slaine looked past him once more to find that the rain had stopped during their bickering. “That’s convenient. Now take your umbrella back, since I obviously don’t need it anymore.”

“I’ve already told you that weather is unpredictable. It’s likely that it’ll start raining again while you walk back. Keep it.”

With that, Inaho adjusted his bag on his shoulder and made for the door for a third time, successfully making his way out into the cool air and turning the corner.

“If you get sick, I’ll laugh at you, Orange,” Slaine called over his shoulder while heading in the opposite direction, swinging the umbrella around by its handle.

“I could say the same to you, Bat.”

The next day’s class found them both with sniffles and – at least on Slaine’s part – wry smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It rained at my university today - luckily, I didn't have to go out into it. This idea came about as a result.
> 
> Notes:  
> \- I apologize if the beginning dragged a bit. I felt it was necessary to at least address where other people were if I was going to focus on Inaho and Slaine's relationship almost exclusively.  
> \- Updates are almost guaranteed not to be this often, but I'll still try to post relatively frequently.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and again, thank you for reading!


	3. Steel

No announcement in a class was capable of bringing about quite as many groans as that of a group project. Inaho and Slaine’s class was no exception when the professor instructed each student to pair up and create a short story presented through text and code. It was a relatively simple assignment, but something about the phrase “group project” always brought out the complaints.

Inaho was taking notes on the progress check dates and the final due date in three weeks when he felt the weight of a gaze on him. He looked up from his phone screen to stare back at Slaine, who looked both conflicted and resigned.

“As much as I hate to do this to myself…” Slaine seemed to steel himself before completing his query. “Do you want to work on the project with me?”

“Are you propositioning me?” Inaho’s tone was flat, but the beginnings of a faint smirk were flitting about the corners of his mouth.

“See, there – instant regret.”

The blond boy turned away using the orange chair’s swivel and sighed – something he seemed to do in excess in Inaho’s presence. _Excessive sighing implies a deterioration of the lungs’ ability to take in oxygen, typically due to a consistent breathing pattern – such patterns typically come about as a result of stress, emotional or otherwise. The source of his stress in this situation would be –_

“You’re anticipating my rejection.” Inaho came to his conclusion after a moment of thought, breaking Slaine out of the incomprehensible mutterings his words had regressed into and making the blond glance back at him from the corner of his eye.

“From you?” Slaine scoffed. “Not particularly. It’s more like I’m expecting you to take an excessive number of words to say ‘yes.’”

“What makes you think I’m incapable of a one-word answer?”

“The fact that you just asked me that question, for one.” Slaine turned back to face Inaho and set his elbow on the table, holding up his index finger for emphasis. “For another, I’ve never met someone who handles words quite like you do.”

“You’re implying that you lack the skills necessary to meet different kinds of people.”

“Just take that as the compliment I didn’t mean for it to be. You talk to people like your words are rocks that need to be thrown at them.”

“Rocks imply a lack of precision. I’d characterize them more as needles.” Inaho played along, if only to meet the daily quota of banter they’d established at some point.

“No, they’re definitely rocks. I wouldn’t always feel so many blunt attacks to my ego if they weren’t,” Slaine mused, before seeming to give himself a mental shake. “Back on topic and proving my point – yes or no?”

“You evidently require my assistance; therefore, I won’t decline.”

“After all of this, you still can’t just say ‘yes.’ I’d think it’s incredible if it weren’t so infuriating.” Despite his words, Slaine’s tone was easygoing, and even Inaho, with his limited ability to read other people’s emotions, could tell that he didn’t mean them.

Inaho could also tell that Slaine was relieved, despite his prior tirade to counter the claim. _There isn’t nearly as much tension in his shoulders now as there was before he asked. The wrinkles near his mouth from involuntary frowning have smoothed out as well._ Indeed, there was now a light smile adorning Slaine’s lips, matching the bright sunlight streaming in through the classroom’s windows.

The screen of the phone in Inaho’s hands blinked on, after which Inaho checked the dates he’d just recorded. “When are you available to work on this?”

Slaine hummed, looking up to the air as he thought about his answer. “I have classes until 4 P.M. every day except for Wednesdays – I’m busy until 6 then. Otherwise, my evenings and weekends are clear.”

Inaho took notes on his calendar while Slaine spoke, cross-checking his own schedule at the same time by overlaying his notes onto the timetable he’d programmed into his phone earlier. “There are conflicts between our schedules until 5 P.M. on weekdays due to my schedule. I assume you’re not opposed to working in the evening.”

Slaine shook his head in agreement with the statement. “I tend to work better at night, anyway – it’s quieter after everyone else goes to sleep.”

Inaho felt his lips twitch up – a reaction beyond his control, though he hadn’t particularly felt the urge to fight it, either. “As expected of you, Bat.”

The blond boy blinked before groaning and letting his head fall into his hands. “I really opened myself up to that one, didn’t I?”

“Indeed.” _He’s easier to provoke without consequence when he’s comfortable and open to conversation._ Inaho silently filed his finding away for later use, holding out his phone to Slaine. “Add your number to it.”

Slaine took it, rolling his eyes while he snipped, “I see ‘please’ is a hard pill for you to swallow.” He tapped in his number and tossed the phone lightly back into Inaho’s hands.

“I don’t see the point of courtesy when a means of communication is imperative to the success of this assignment.” Inaho went about sending Slaine a text so that he'd have his number, but not before he blatantly changed the name of the contact the blond had created from “Slaine” to “Bat.”

“You did that because I was watching.” Slaine stated his observation with some amount of exasperation, but the indignation that normally accompanied it had died down over the past few days.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, I can make it so that Slaine and Inaho are part of the minority of students who can at least tolerate working on a group project.
> 
> Notes:  
> \- I typically end chapters whenever I feel there's a good stopping point, but I do try to hover around the 1000-word mark.  
> \- I re-read my work after posting - while it's the part of the writing process I dislike the most, it helps me find typos and inconsistencies that don't pop out when I'm initially writing.  
> \- Using alternate definitions for the words typically attached to colors (e.g. "steel") made me smile. Expect more of them.  
> \- Comments made me smile too. Thank you very much!
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and again, thank you for reading!


	4. Beige

It was to be the first day that Inaho and Slaine worked on their project together. Inaho had left his class promptly when it ended at 4:50 P.M. and would be walking with the other boy to his apartment within the hour, where they’d agreed to work due to its presumed surplus of space that Inaho’s relatively cramped dorm room lacked.

That is, if he could find the flighty bat.

Before his last class of the day had started, Inaho had texted Slaine to make sure that they were on the same page as to where they would meet after Inaho’s class ended. Slaine had sent back an affirmation that they’d meet in the library at 5 P.M.

However, Inaho had made the miscalculation of assuming it’d be easy to find Slaine in the university library – the university library with eight floors, of which the first two made up a surprisingly lavish atrium – without asking him what floor he would be on. He’d already tried asking “What floor are you on?” in exactly those words, with no response in the past few minutes.

Inaho sighed inwardly, the only sign of his self-directed exasperation an unmeasured blink of his eyes. _My only option is to determine where he would be in the entire structure and seek him out._

He thought it over as he walked slowly towards the spiral staircase that ascended through all of the floors, when a tiny voice in his mind told him that Slaine would probably be somewhere in the upper floors.

 _If my intuition proves correct, it may have been an imprudent decision to take the stairs, considering the limits of my own stamina._ Inaho mulled over his inkling as he took the stairs one step at a time, his footsteps echoing and coming back to his ears louder than when they’d left his feet. _I have no logical basis for assuming that Slaine would be on the upper floors. There may be more people on the lower floors due to convenience, but he hasn’t proven himself an anti-social person by any standards._

Questioning his thought processes didn’t stop him from counting the number of steps it took for him to get to the eighth floor. After exactly one hundred and thirty seven steps – _they don’t divide evenly by the number of floors_ – Inaho found himself at the top.

A quick glance around didn’t divulge Slaine’s presence, or prove a lack thereof. For thoroughness’ sake, he walked through the shelves, noting that the only sounds he could hear were his own muffled footsteps on the thin, beige carpet and the rustling of his clothes moving against themselves.

Though if he stood still, he could hear –

Inaho turned his head in the direction of the quiet murmurs. There, at the end of a corridor of bookcases, was Slaine. He lay on one of the communal couches there, one arm thrown over his face – presumably to block out the remaining sunlight of the day as well as the partially dimmed fluorescent lights overhead – and the other resting on his stomach. His backpack, normally slung over one of his shoulders when he was awake, now sat on the floor.

Inaho’s eyes flickered about to take in Slaine’s form, something resembling guilt creeping in on his conscious. _If he was tired enough to sleep in a public place like this, he needn’t have agreed to work on the project today._ He attributed it to a strong sense of responsibility and spotted the blond boy’s phone, near his hand but settled in the crack of the couch. _He let go of it when he fell asleep and the cushions must have muffled the sound of it._

Another murmur left Slaine’s lips, making Inaho focus on what was being said.

“…don’t...” Creases formed on Slaine’s forehead. His hands clenched slightly while his body turned slightly away from Inaho, towards the cushions of the couch.

 _Somniloquy is a type of parasomnia that usually occurs in early stages of sleep, often attributed to stress or anxiety._ _He fell asleep recently, but his rest is – ironically – restless._ Inaho noted the behavior, worry replacing his guilt as he knelt near Slaine’s head as to catch his words more easily. _Current sources of stress and anxiety could include but are not necessarily limited to academics, social interactions, family, and –_

“…damn Orange… don’t call me that…”

Inaho softly let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, almost laughing aloud. “Maybe I wouldn’t call you Bat if you didn’t act like one at every possible opportunity. Who else would go up and nestle in a dark corner like a bat in the belfry?”

The spoken comment roused Slaine slightly due to Inaho’s proximity to his ears – he blinked his eyes blearily, moving his arm away from his face and sitting up against the arm of the couch. Rubbing at his eyes, he groped for his phone for a moment, stopping just before bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.

“…Orange?” A yawn acted as the vanguard for the sleepy utterance of Inaho’s nickname.

“Bat.” Inaho’s curt greeting belied his amusement at the situation.

“What time is it?” Slaine prefaced his question with a glance towards the windows that made up one of the walls of the library, which revealed a fairly bright sky with wispy clouds.

Inaho reached over Slaine’s legs on the couch to pull the blond boy’s phone out from where it’d burrowed into the couch. He switched the screen on and, after raising an eyebrow, held it up to Slaine, showing him two items on the screen – specifically, the time, denoted 5:08 P.M., and the text Inaho had sent earlier, the preview reading “Orange – ‘What floor are you on?’”

Inaho couldn’t tell which item had caused the flush that was now spreading high on Slaine’s cheeks. Slaine snatched the phone out of Inaho’s hand feebly, opening his mouth to defend himself.

Inaho stood up, causing Slaine to crane his neck so that his eyes could hold Inaho’s gaze. “As I thought, you do prefer high places.”

He turned and walked back to the stairs, with Slaine scrambling to catch up with him.

“And what do you mean by that?” Slaine inquired, running his fingers through his messy hair in a poor attempt of straightening out the locks.

“Nothing besides what I’ve already stated. Evidently, the nickname I’ve given you has caused you undue stress and paranoia, and for that, I apologize.”

“You, apologizing? I’m not sure I’ve woken up yet.”

Were Inaho a more expressive person, he might have given Slaine a playful push, but considering that he wasn’t, and that, even if he were, they were both on a long flight of stairs, he didn’t. Instead, he settled for replying with a hum, continuing down the stairs.

On the one-hundred-and-thirty-seventh step, he let Slaine walk ahead of him and said, “Lead the way,” after which Slaine looked back at him and rolled his eyes.

The two left a string of library patrons behind them – some stared at them with gazes laced with annoyance at their noise-making, though the majority sported some sort of smile at their antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the one of the libraries at my university as a model for the one in this story. I personally can't imagine sleeping in it.
> 
> Notes:  
> \- The chapter is thought-heavy since Inaho has only himself for company for the majority of it. I apologize if I focused on or used them too much.  
> \- Reading through this made me remember that English grammar is a massive pain. The word "were" ceased to look like a word after a certain point.  
> \- Credit for the idea of Slaine sleep-talking goes to my roommate, who sleep-talks fairly coherently and consistently when I'm up writing or working.  
> \- I'm flattered and enthused by the positive response to this story - thank you for all of your kind comments! I'll continue to do my best with all aspects of it!
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and again, thank you for reading!


	5. Mahogany

The sun had sunk a little closer to the horizon by the time the two made it to Slaine’s apartment, but wasn’t due to set for another couple of hours. Its light glinted off of the brass doorknob while Slaine fiddled with the zippers on his bag, trying to find the key to unlock it.

“Try your right-hand pocket,” Inaho intoned, standing off to the side and observing the other’s struggle to stand on one leg and support his bag with the other.

“Don’t say something like ‘I heard it while you were jumping around and trying to find it in your bag.’” Slaine frowned, the tell-tale jingle of metal on metal sounding once he stuck his designated hand in his pocket.

“I wasn’t going to say anything like that. That’d make you too much of a monkey.” He inclined his head towards Slaine’s keys in his hand. “You’re right-handed. You were much more likely to use the keys, as well as store them away, with your dominant hand.”

Slaine raised an eyebrow while pushing in the door to let them in. “That’s one of the better explanations I’ve heard from you yet.”

Inaho followed after Slaine, glancing around as he entered the apartment. _Sparse and clean. Having few belongings is conducive to the latter._ “None of my prior explanations have been illogical or unsatisfactory.” He stepped on his own heels to remove his shoes, following Slaine’s lead in putting them on a rack near the door.

“I have to disagree on both fronts.” He continued into the apartment, making a left into a short hallway leading away from the immediately visible living room and kitchen. Inaho found it rather spacious for an undergraduate student, especially since Slaine seemed to be living alone. “We’re working in my room,” he called over his shoulder as he entered one of the doors on the right.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Inaho murmured before crossing the threshold to the bedroom. Slaine looked back at him quizzically for a moment before looking away quickly.

Slaine’s room proved to be as barren as what Inaho had come to expect from his brief glimpse at the rest of the complex. A low table with cushions scattered around it sat in the center of the room, upon which Slaine dropped his bag before stretching out on his bed in the opposing corner of the room from the door. A taller desk next to the bed acted as both a study area and a nightstand, from what Inaho could tell. A bookshelf attached to the desk housed books on a variety of subjects – _programming guides, historical and contemporary politics, mythology across Europe, those romance novels Yuki likes –_

“You can set your things down over there.” Slaine waved his hand in the general direction of the low table, still sprawled on his bed. With a huff, he sat up, stretching his shoulders out while asking, “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want any?”

“It would be appreciated.”

“Green or black?”

“Surprise me.”

A smirk flickered across Slaine’s face and disappeared as quickly as it appeared. He walked out of the room, his footsteps neither light nor unsteady, but instead sure and uniform. _Confident, in other words._

Inaho began to wonder whether or not he should regret asking for the unexpected.

He looked over Slaine’s desk after setting down his own bag to distract himself, noting that everything seemed to have his place, with no loose papers or pens to be seen. _Everything is neatly organized and dusted… except for that._

He took a couple steps closer to examine a simplistic mahogany photo frame, turned down so that the contents of the frame faced the desk’s top. The back of the frame sported a light layer of dust, as if it hadn’t been touched for quite a while. _However, the area around it is dusted thoroughly. Whoever is represented in the picture must hold great importance to him, though the fact that the picture itself isn’t actually on display implies that he is somehow disillusioned or wounded by it._

He didn’t allow his curiosity to take advantage of him, turning away from the sight but still pondering it as he sat down on one of the cushions at the low table. He pulled out his tablet and switched the screen on, at which point Slaine came back in, two white mugs in his hands as he pushed the door open with his shoulder.

Inaho accepted the mug offered to him without looking at it, but almost instantly felt the distinct lack of warmth when the ceramic touched his skin _._ He looked at it and almost scoffed at himself, instead managing to let a small smile form.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Slaine’s smugness bled through heavily into his rhetorical question.

“What did?” Inaho humored him with the question as he set his empty mug on the table.

“You were surprised.” Inaho could see Slaine’s eyes crease with his mirthful gloating, the steam from his own mug obscuring the gleam in them at times.

“Indeed.” Inaho glanced around the room again, subconsciously looking for anything that might elucidate the contents of the picture frame while Slaine sat to his left, carefully setting his mug down before pulling his bag off the table.

“I was born somewhere in Europe on January eleventh, nineteen years ago. I’m a second year in undergraduate education currently partnered with one of the most insufferable people I know and I should be working on a project with him right now but he’s–”

“What are you doing?” Inaho stared at him.

Slaine shrugged, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. He hid behind his mug of tea, replying, “You looked uncomfortable, and I thought it might be because you’re in my apartment and you know barely anything about me.”

“That’s to be expected. We haven’t known each other for an extended period of time, and the amount of time we are in contact is minimal.”

Slaine leaned back on his palms, attempting to blow his hair out of his face. “Well, we have time now. Do you want to play twenty questions?”

“Are you that eager to shirk our project?”

“I’m doing this for your sake. Just say yes.” Slaine’s face scrunched a bit at his last statement.

“All right.”

Slaine spluttered. “Really? I didn’t think it’d be that easy.”

“That’s a testament to how desperate you are to know more about me. I’m flattered.”

“Damn Orange.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write a paper for one of my classes and I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wanted to write this story - I had no idea exactly what to write, though. 
> 
> Notes;  
> \- I apologize for the weak ending - I'm working up to a vague plot and I haven't quite figured it out yet.  
> \- I used the last scene of season 1 to determine handedness for Inaho and Slaine - left- and right-handed, respectively.  
> \- I'm always excited to read comments - thank you for leaving them!
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and again, thank you for reading!


	6. Pink

“Will this be twenty questions each or twenty questions total?” Inaho inquired after letting Slaine stew.

“It’s just the name of the game, you know.” Annoyance bled into Slaine’s voice. “It doesn’t have to be exactly twenty in any respect.”

“I don’t see the meaning of the name if it doesn’t imply the mechanics.”

“I think you’re overlooking the more important part of the name, anyway – the ‘questions’ part, if you don’t remember it.” Slaine punctuated his snide comment with a roll of his eyes.

“If I’m not mistaken, the point of the original game is to determine the identity of an unknown object. I fail to see how the game functions in this context.”

“We’re each other’s unknown objects.”

“How romantic.” Inaho’s face had remained closed-off throughout their exchange, but even he wasn’t immune to his own comment, evident when he rested his face on his hand in order to hide his smile.

Slaine’s expression twisted into one of regret, and he hastily amended, “You better ignore that.”

“I’ve already acknowledged it.” Inaho let his gaze wander over the room again, formulating questions to ask.

Slaine watched him before he perked up, as if he’d had an epiphany. “Let’s say we’re allowed three passes too, in case you come up with some nasty questions I don’t want to answer.”

Inaho hummed in agreement, forgoing a comment on the slight. “We need to determine who asks first.”

“When’s your birthday?” Slaine made the decision for them. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be, Orange.”

“February seventh.” _One._

A short silence ensued after Inaho’s answer. Slaine broke it before long, sounding exasperated. “It’s your turn to ask a question.”

“Did you not want to ask all of your questions at once?”

Slaine seemed to lose some of his energy after that, pillowing his head on his arms and groaning, “That makes it more of an interrogation than a game.”

“I see. How long have you lived in Japan?” _Two._

The blond boy raised his head at that, his mouth stretching into a grimace. “Several years, now.” He paused and gave himself a shake, as if to dispel overhanging thoughts.“Do you have any siblings?” _Three._

_He seemed uncomfortable with the last question. It would be logical to continue down that route of questioning to relate it to the contents of the picture frame._ “My older sister, Yuki. She works as a police officer. Before you ask, I’ve been told we don’t seem like we’re related at all.” Inaho added on the last part once Slaine flinched away from him.

Slaine sighed. “That’s good – I doubt I’d be able to handle you on two fronts.”

“You’re very generous with your compliments.” _He seems to be an only child, then._

“Shut up.”

“What do your parents do?” _Four._

“…Pass.”

Inaho nodded, tracing the curves of the empty mug in front of him with his index finger. “Fair enough.”

“How old are your parents?” _Five._

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you.”

“You’re passing?” Slaine seemed skeptical.

“No. I am incapable of telling you because I don’t know how old they would be, were they still alive.”

Slaine averted his eyes, looking down into his lap where his hands now rested. “My condolences.”

Inaho shrugged. “Yuki would need those more than I would. Don’t worry about it.”

“Who said I was worried?” Slaine’s flush – from embarrassment, presumably – told Inaho otherwise.

_He most likely thinks he’s crossed some kind of line by asking me about my parents – chivalrous, though unnecessarily emotional, considering that he knew nothing prior to asking._ “What is your favorite season?” _Six._

“How cliché.” The statement held no venom, and Slaine seemed to be considering it thoughtfully. “Spring, maybe? That, or winter.”

Inaho blinked. “I’m not sure if you could have picked more contradictory seasons.”

“Well, there’s summer and winter, right?” Slaine seemed miffed. “There aren’t any wrong answers here, to begin with.”

_Summer and winter could be construed as complete opposites, but those are simple geographical and thermodynamic differences. The symbolic meanings of spring and winter, on the other hand…_

“Why do you study here?” _Seven._

“I’m not sure I understand the question.” Inaho frowned slightly. _Is the emphasis on ‘why study’ or ‘why here’?_

Slaine grumbled a bit at having to clarify. “I mean, you’re obviously not inept.” He waved a hand at Inaho’s person in general. “You could probably study at a much more prestigious university and do just fine. So why didn’t you?”

“As you are now aware, my parents have passed, and my sister supports the both of us. This university offered me a fully-funded education with room and board, without my having to move far away from where my sister lives. It wouldn’t have been reasonable to reject their offer, given the circumstances.”

Slaine sighed. “I suppose I should have figured as much.”

“That almost sounded like another compliment.” Before Slaine could protest, Inaho returned Slaine’s question to him. “Why are you here, then?” _Eight._

“Pass.” Slaine’s refusal to answer came more quickly than the first, leading Inaho to believe that the other had solidified in his mind what he did and didn’t want Inaho to know. “What’s your favorite food?” _Nine._

“How delightfully mundane,” Inaho deadpanned, the indiscrete implication of _hypocrite_ hanging on each of his words. _It’s as though he thinks he’s treading on ice with his questions when I answer those that give him answers he doesn’t expect. Is he afraid of offending me?_ “If I’m cooking the food, then I would say rolled omelets. Yuki asked me to cook them fairly often when I still lived with her, and I became rather adept at it.”

“You cook?” Slaine raised an eyebrow. “In a pink apron and everything?”

“I’d rather not put my physical being at risk because of fragile pride that relies on my outward appearance.”

“In other words, you did own a pink apron.” Inaho could see Slaine’s mind working to form a mental image of the shorter boy in said apron and heard him snicker a bit. “And if you were eating it?”

“I would still most likely say rolled omelets.”

“This is your way of saying ‘I make damn good omelets,’ isn’t it?”

“If that is how you take my words, then I am not opposed to your interpretation.”

“Who’s going on about ‘fragile pride,’ again?”

“Should I count each of those as separate questions and ask you as many in return?” _Ten._

“…No.”

“As I thought.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fairly difficult to write for whatever reason - most likely because it was very dialogue-heavy.   
> Hopefully, someday, I'll strike a balance.
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Inaho is counting questions in his own special way, in which he evaluates each one and determines whether or not they should be counted. As such, not all question marks are paired with a number.  
> \- Inaho didn't make it to twenty - therefore, the next chapter will be the continuation of their game. Feel free to leave suggestions for questions - I honestly had a hard time coming up with ones that would allow the story to progress.  
> \- Thank you all for everything - reading, commenting, leaving kudos; I'm always elated to see e-mail alerts from this story!
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and again, thank you for reading!


	7. Plum

“Favorite weather pattern?” Slaine threw the question over his shoulder after he set down his cup and sat on his bed, letting his back rest against the wall.

“Fox wedding.” _Eleven._

“Excuse me?”

“I believe the meteorological term is sun shower. That was the cultural term specific to the Japanese.”

Slaine made a noise of acknowledgement before admitting, “I almost thought you were making up answers.”

“‘Honesty is the best policy,’ is it not?”

“With your face like that, I doubt anyone would be able to tell when you’re lying, anyway.”

“My facial muscles are in no state of atrophy or disability.” Inaho almost felt as though he needed to make a face and prove his point. “Do you play any instruments?” _Twelve._

“A bit of the piano.” Slaine glanced at a wall of his room, confusing Inaho until he vaguely remembered that he’d seen a glimpse of an upright piano in the living room on the way in. “I never learned it well.”

Inaho found this curious. “Do you enjoy playing it?”

“Somewhat.” Slaine didn’t elaborate further, and Inaho decided to let the topic go, though he was somewhat assured that Slaine’s reluctance had to do with the downturned picture frame. “What side of the bed do you like to sleep on?” _Thirteen._

“The top, preferably.”

Slaine looked about ready to throw a pillow at Inaho, so the younger boy was prepared for the one that came sailing through the air at his face.

“I’m fairly sure you believe that I deserved that.” Inaho caught the pillow – with his hands, to Slaine’s obvious dismay – and put it in his lap, smoothing his fingers over the plum-colored pillowcase.

“Of course you did.”

“Do you prefer firm pillows?” _Fourteen._ The question came to mind after Inaho found that the pillow in his lap put up a reasonable amount of resistance when he tried to compress it.

“I’ve never really thought about it. I’ve had that for a while, and I don’t think I checked or cared about what kind it was when I bought it.”

_It could be an indicator that he doesn’t sleep here, or often._ Inaho wasn’t quite sure which one it was, if it was to be either.

“If you could live at any time in history, when would it be?” _Fifteen._

“Assuming that the future is not yet history, and that fantasy does not count, I am perfectly content with living in the present. I would be remiss to disregard the fact that there are many modern conveniences without which living day to day would be much more difficult.”

“Such as?”

“Vaccines. For living.”

“How pragmatic.”

“Is this your natural hair color?” Inaho asked as he pulled a stray blond hair out of the weave of the pillowcase’s fabric. _Sixteen._

“…Really?”

“It seemed like a question you’d know how to answer, if you take into consideration the fact that you’re likely to receive it within the first few encounters with various people.”

“That doesn’t mean it needs to be asked again.” He fiddled with a lock of his hair, turning it this way and that in the fluorescent lighting of the room. “I don’t even know how I would go about proving it to you.”

Inaho raised an eyebrow, waiting for the ‘eureka’ moment.

The silence prompted Slaine to look at Inaho to find the reason for the lack of response, after which a flush rose in Slaine’s face as comprehension dawned on him. He managed to choke out, “Damn it, Orange…!” as he hid his face in his knees.

“You bring it upon yourself.” Inaho noted how vicious the blush was this time, the bright color reaching even the tips of Slaine’s ears.

“What’s your worst subject?” _Seventeen._ Slaine seemed intent on finding something to use against Inaho.

“I am adept at all of them.” He decided to foil Slaine’s plans for the moment.

“Why did I even bother asking?” Slaine mumbled the question half-heartedly, face still hidden behind his knees.

_Rhetorical question, evidently._ “In the spirit of the game, I have not been given accolades for my abilities in creative writing.”

“I was hoping for something more along the lines of a mortal weakness to chemistry.”

“If you were going to poison me, you shouldn’t have given me an empty cup.” Inaho inclined his head towards the cup that Slaine had given him earlier.

Slaine rolled his eyes, now visible over his jean-clad knees. “I wouldn’t kill you here. It’d be too obvious that I did it.”

“I see your problem is not with your hypothetical intent to murder.”

“If I were to murder you, how would you want to die?” _Eighteen._

_An interesting question._ “If you were the one to kill me, then I’d prefer that you did it with a gun – a bullet to the head would do it efficiently.”

Slaine seemed to be stunned by the answer. “Why does it matter if I’m the one shooting?” _Nineteen._

“Damage dealt with long-range weapons is much more impersonal, regardless of whatever emotions back the decision to use the weapon in the first place. If compared to a bare-handed method, such as strangling, it is considerably easier to pull a trigger than to choke someone.” Inaho leveled his gaze at Slaine, who had straightened up fully during Inaho’s spiel. “As my friend, I would not wish that you weigh yourself with my death if you had to be the one to execute it.”

Slaine frowned, conflicting emotions displayed on his face – emotions that Inaho found himself unable to read. “Did you forget you’re allowed to pass?” Slaine asked with a tone of evasion - to Inaho, it seemed as though he was trying to buy himself time to internalize his response.

“I’ve yet to be asked a question that requires the use of such a handicap.”

“You’re not making me feel any better about my using them.”

“You made that rule with the purpose of utilizing it. I fail to see the problem with forethought and execution.”

Slaine sighed, slumping. “Well, whatever. Favorite color?”

_Twenty._

“Pass.”

“...Why?”

“You seemed discomfited by my disuse of the passes. It was not my intention to make you feel guilty for not wanting to share personal information.”

“The game was my idea in the first place,” Slaine rebuffed, aggravated. “I wasn’t asking for pity when I said that.”

“I’m not offering you pity when you evidently don’t require it.”

Slaine’s expression told Inaho that the blond boy didn’t particularly accept that as an answer, but Slaine seemed to brush it off before stretching his arms above his head and yawning. As Inaho watched Slaine’s eyes tear up slightly – _pressure on the lacrimal ducts in the eyes, causing tears to escape the eyelid –_ he realized why his reasoning sounded so weak, even to himself.

He hadn’t known the answer to Slaine’s question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent the past couple of days writing thousands of words for university, and somehow, this was even more difficult to write than those. I'm not sure where the story is going from here, so please bear with me.
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Some of the questions and answers were written prior to the context surrounding them. This chapter doesn't seem to flow well to me as a result, and I apologize.  
> \- Feel free to leave scene ideas - I'll definitely take them into consideration, since my muse seems to be fleeing into the night.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and again, thank you for reading!


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